Over The Hills And Far Away
by Triscia
Summary: Eighteen months have passed since they thwarted the Apocalypse and although having taken up relatively normal lives, the Winchester brothers find the past is a hard thing to truly escape from.
1. American Falls, Idaho

_American Falls, Idaho  
December 21, 1987_

An eerie calm crept over Elm Street as its roads became blanketed by new fallen snow. Homes here were few and far between, often lots of at least an acre, but no more than two, seperated by large gaps of undeveloped forrestry. Just towards the end of the street, hidden behind a small grove of trees, stood a 450 square foot yellow ranch style house. The smallest in the neighborhood and the most removed, it wasnt much - but to Jason Coulson - it was home. Standing in his driveway, dressed in a red and black flannel shirt, steel-toed work boots and jeans, he stood examing the engine of a rusted, light blue 1964 Ford Ranchero.

"And?" asked a nervous voice from behind him.

"And what?" he asked in reply, his concentration never leaving his patient.

"What's wrong with her?"

Sighing deeply, he stood back up and slammed the hood down, turning his attention towards the tall, blonde man in the black parka behind him.

"Tim, its a Ranchero," he replied in all seriousness. "That in itself is all kinds of wrong."

Tim frowned. Removing his glove from his hand, he playfully smacked Jason across the shoulder.

"That's not funny."

Jason broke out in a fit of laughter.

"Yeah it is."

Tim responds to Jason's playground humor with an annoyed grunt.

"Carborators shot. Going to take some work, but not beyond the realm of repair."

"How long?"

"Three days, two if Amy's schedule permits."

Tim looked to Jason, his eyebrow raised in slight concern.

"They got her pulling extra shifts at the diner," Jason explained as he leaned back against the hood. Tim followed. "Ever since Esther Guiney died, George has been a wreck. He and Es never had kids of their own. So Amy and the other girls are like family to him. Their trying to help him get thru this."

"That's gotta be rough though, leaving you here all alone with the girls."

Jason beamed, "Its not so bad, I mean, I get to spend time with my daughters."

"I mean Esther died, what, about two months ago?"

Jason nodded.

"And you're telling me that Amy has been working doubles ever since?"

"The Guiney's were always good to us. After I got kicked out of the house for knocking Amy up, George and Esther took me in. It was George who put in a good word for me with Mitch Patterson and got me a job at the garage. Gave Amy a job at the diner. It was George who fronted me the money to buy this land so that Amy and I and our children had a home. And right now he needs us."

"Yeah, but this can't be easy on you, working at the garage too. And the girls are so young . . ."

"Mitch is a good friend of George's. He understands the situation. Lets me work out of the house when Amy's working and I come into the garage when I can."

"But still - "

"But nothing, Tim. The world is a scary place. Things aint the way it used to be. There are too many monsters out there making it hard to find decent folk. Well, George Guiney is as decent as they come and I for one, am going to do my part to help him stay that way."

Tim looked as if he was about to reply, when he noticed a little girl dressed in pink Smurfette footie pajamas and clutching a large brown teddy bear staring out at them thru a screen door from the inside the house.

"I think somebody's awake," Tim said as he gestured towards the porch.

Jason turned to see his eldest looking back him thru overwrought eyes,

Leaping off the hood, "She probably had another nightmare."

"Kristina's having nightmares?"

Jason ignored Tim's comments and yelled in the frightened girls direction, "Just go wait in your room. I will be right there sweetie."

The girl nodded and immediately walked away from the window.

"She's been having them the last couple of days now. She won't talk about them."

"Have you _tried_?"

Jason looked to Tim exasperated.

"Of course I _tried_, _what kinda question is that_?"

"Hey, don't get all uptight," Tim replied throwing up his hands in defense. "I ain't meant no foul. I just wondered if with yours and Amy's schedule being the way it is, if you've been spending enough time with the girls like you would if you weren't spread so thin."

"You know damn well I would do anything for those girls!"

"I know that, Jayce, its just bit much for you is all. I mean, I know you want to be there for George cause that's what decent folk do, but there has to be a limit."

"George is family. And right now he needs our help."

"Well, from the look of things, he's not the only one. And honestly, who needs it more?"

Jason stared back at the screen door and look to Tim with resolve.

"Anyway, I will try and get the old girl up and running as soon as I can."

"Take your time, Jayce. I'm in no hurry."

"Thanks Tim, Jason said as he patted his friend on the shoulder.

"Don't mention it."

"You need a ride back to town?"

"Nah, Bill Hibbert bought a new pool table he's been dying to show me. I think I'll catch a ride back with him."

"Are you sure?"

Tim nodded, "I'm sure. Go be with your girls."

Jason watched as Tim walked away and was down the road a bit before turning back and running into the house. He noticed his youngest daughter fixated in front of the television in the den.

"Brienna, honey, what are you doing up?" he asked concerned as he scooped the four year old into his arms.

"Krissy woke me up. She had another nightmare."

"Brie, sweetie, where is Krissy now?"

"She's in her room talking with Mommy."

Jason looked at Brie, slightly taken aback.

"Brie, Mommy's at work."

"No, she's not. She's upstairs with Krissy. I saw her. She told me to go downstairs and watch TV. And so I did."

Panic ran up Jason's spine. He did his spent to steel his resolve in front of his little girl.

"Brienna, how about we play a little game."

"A game?" the girl asked excitedly. "What kind of game Daddy?"

"I need to go upstairs and talk to Krissy and Mommy for a minute. What I want for you to do is go watch TV in the den and don't come out until I tell you to. No matter what. That's our game. To see how long you can stay in the den. And if you stay in the den until Daddy is done, I'll make you a big ice cream sundae. You think you can do that for me?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"That's my girl," Jason breathed as he kissed the top of his daughter forehead and set her down in front of the TV.

"Now you stay put until I come for you, okay?"

Brienna nodded and Jason smiled as he closed the sliding door behind him. Wasting not a single second, he ran straight for the kitchen, grabbing a large container of salt from the cupboard, he ran right back, drawing a straight line just in front of the door. After he emptied the container he dropped it in front of the door and made a beeline for his daughter's upstairs bedroom. Stoppind dead in his tracks at the top of the stairwell, his heart began to race, his mind in a panic when he saw that her door had been closed shut.

"No," he breathed as he ran down the narrow hallway towards the door.

However before he could reach it, he felt as if a rug had been pulled out from under him and he landed hard on his back against the wooden floor. Hissing loudly his eyes squinted painfully. So wrapped up in his agony, he failed to hear the quiet footsteps aproaching him. When he finally was able to work thru the pain, he reopened his eyes, a cross of pained confusion grew across his face.

"Brienna?" he asked trying to lift himself up. "I thought I told you to stay downstairs?"

"Shh," Brienna said placing one finger in front of her lips.

Jason tried to speak, but soon found himself incapable. Grabbing at his throat as if trying to pry off unseen arms, he began choking violently. Large amounts of water spewing forth from his mouth and escaping from every orifice of his body until it was overcome with spasmodic convolutions. Brienna just stood there, watching, unreacting until finally Jason's body shook no longer. His dead eyes frozen in permanent shock. Smilingly brightly she walked up to the door and opened it widely. There in the corner of the room Kristina sat shaking and sobbing uncontrollably, her mother's still, dead form on the floor in front of her.

"It's okay now, Krissy," Brienna said sweetly as she bent down besides her sister and wiped the tears from her eyes. "They're gone. Its just you and me from now on."

Kristina looked up at her sister for the first time. Brienna's eyes had turned the brightest shade of blue with eerie vein-like tendrils seeping out from her eyes and bleeding onto her face.

All she could do was scream.


	2. Farmington, New Mexico

_Cortez, Colorado  
Present Day_

Eighteen months, three weeks, five days and four hours had passed since Sam Winchester had seen his brother.

And he would be lying if he said he didn't miss him every minute and every day that passed.

He had made himself a promise that night in Cicero. The night he was snapped back into reality and witnessed his brother getting the one thing he always truly wanted. He promised himself he would let Dean go. He would walk away so that his brother could finally live a normal life. It took everything Sam had not to rush up to that door. To knock as hard and as swiftly as he could and announce to his beloved brother that he was alive. The brother whom he knew was grief stricken beyond reproach.

But he didn't.

He took one, last, and hard look at Dean before turning around. Vanishing into the night.

He knew what Bobby would have said in that situation. He was an idjit. He should have told Dean that he was alive and not have him go thru all the pain of mourning him. But he also knew what the pain of his being alive would cause him. All the questions about, how he got out of the hole? Why? Was he even Sam anymore? Questions he himself had. Questions that needed answering. He didn't want to put Dean thru all the uncertainty. Not again. Better to have him think of him as dead than to have him worrying and wondering about him the way he had most of their lives. He deserved a better than that. Deserved normalcy. And come hell or high water Sam was going to make sure he got it.

After leaving Cicero, Sam took up in a motel outside of Indianapolis. He stayed there a whole month. Who or whatever had zapped him back from the pit not only brought him back to life, but brought him as he was before he said yes. Which thankfully meant that he had his wallet. He did have much, but he had enough cash and credit cards to hold him over til he knew what he was gonig to do next. The first few days Sam was at the motel he did nothing but drink and weep. Going over and over in his mind the events of his life and what it had cost him. He wept for his parents. For Jess. For all the people he knew and loved who were gone. But most importantly, for Dean. By walking away he had resigned the fact that he would probably never see his brother again.

After his pain had died down, Sam resigned himself into long and hard contemplation about whether or not he wanted to go on living at all. Although he had come up with alot of very good reasons as to why death would have been a better option at this point, the one and only negative reason outweighed all the rest. Dean would want him to go on living, no matter what path in life he would take. In that declaration he found strength and renewed purpose. He was going to find out the answers he was looking for. No matter what they were, or where they would take him. Much like the search for John had years before, Sam found his own personal quest would lead him back on the open road. Back to hunting. There was a part of him that liked returning to the whole 'saving people, hunting things' simplicity past without the whole destiny crap hanging over him.

His first hunt after his return had been a doozy and one that would stay with him for over a year. Before leaving Cicero he started scouting for any signs of a potential hunt and had come across in a rather unexpected way. While up late one night he had caught wind of a national news report about a rash of bizarre deaths in and around Mesa Verde National Park. He had remembered that it fell not too far from The Four Corners, an area well known in hunting circles to be a hotbed of supernatural activity. Deciding to see for himself, he got himself a cheap rental car, some basic necessities and headed west. He drove thru the night, stopping only for gas, and the occasional meal. Early in the morning, he had made it as far as Farmington, New Mexico. Exhausted he pushed forward, telling himself that he would rest whenhe got there.

Pushing himself a little too hard, and a little too far, Sam had fell asleep behind the wheel and ran the car off the road. Crashing into a nearby tree, the impact was hard enough to dislodge his seatbelt and send him flying chest first into the steering column. Sam awoke in a hospital three days later with a four broken ribs, a nasty concussion and a serious cardiac contusion, or as his doctor put it, he hit the steering wheel so hard he literally bruised his heart. The injury was causing an irregular heartbeat that they were having trouble stabilizing. The injury left him pretty much stuck in bed for the next three weeks. While doctors worked on his heart, Sam found alternative means of working on the case.

During his convalescence he was frequently visited by a perky, buxom brunette candy striper named Molly Leonard. Molly, a twenty-two-year-old anthropology major became a bright spot during this uncertain time. Taking an instant liking to Sam, she would often be a source of great comfort as she proved to be an excellent conversationalist. After a few brief conversations Sam was able to convince Molly that he was a writer doing research on the supernatural folklore of the area for an upcoming book. Peeking her interest by this declaration, Sam was able to convince Molly to bring him the local papers and other research matierials so he could work on his book while he was laid up.

Sam felt bad using Molly in that way, as she was good natured and genuinely sweet. However, with a potential monster on the loose, it was a unfortunate necessity. Three weeks later the doctors had managed to regulate his heart and he was given a clean bill of health to leave the hospital. Before leaving town Sam invited Molly out for some drinks to thank her for being such a help to him. She accepted and the two were to meet at a local pool hall later that night. Molly never showed. Sam had thought nothing of it, thinking maybe she had just been polite agreeing to meet him in the first place. It wasnt until the next day when he turned on the news did he learn the awful truth. Molly was dead. Killed by whatever supernatural being he had come there to hunt. Sam was saddened.

From what he could surmise from her murder, along with all the other details about the victims, she was most likely killed by a vampire. Sam tracked, researched but came up empty. Whoever or whatever did this was long gone. Including his time in the hospital he stayed in Farmington for two months before sensing it was time to pack it in. In the months that followed, Sam tackled everything from ghosts to werewolves. Always keeping an eye to The Four Corners. Hopping back in and around the area anytime anything strange caught his eye. Hoping that one day he would catch the fiend that killed Molly. During one such excursion he found himself in Cortez - investigating a string of animal deaths that turned out to be nothing more than sick teenagers out for attention. While in town Sam paid a visit to a local doctor. Ever since his accident his ticker would act up from time to time causing him to seek medical attention. Lately, however, theses episodes came more frequent and lasted much longer.

He had been on medication since leaving Farmington but in the months that followed these episodes the medication seemed to become increasingly inaffective. The last cardiologist he had seen had presented him with a best and worse case scenario if the pharmacological options failed. None of them sounded very appealing. As he had sat in that doctors office in Cortez, feeling the cold press of the doctors stethoscope against his chest. Breathing in an out as instructed and switching to differing degrees of uncomfortable positions - he couldnt help but think of Dean. Being grateful his brother wasnt around. Didnt know he was sick. That he hadnt told him he was alive only to have Dean be around to watch him fade away. His decision had been the right one and any doubt in his mind was erased in the moment.

When the examination was over, the look Sam got from the doctor said it all. He listened to all the technical jargon but his mind zeroed in on only the essentials of the conversation. The medication was no longer working and it has no longer become a viable option. His only option at this point is to have surgery to implant a pacemaker, which may or may not work. If he did nothing, he would likely have a heart attack and die. He had told the doctor he needed time to let it all sink in before he made any decisions. The doctor (although reluctant) accepted his decision. On the drive back to the motel, he had already knew what his decision would be. He had no insurance. And it is doubtful he would be able to swing a couple hundred thousand dollar surgery with fake insurance cards. He got eighteen months more than he should have and he was grateful for it.

And as he reached the motel, he felt his heart twinge. Reaching over into the glovebox, he reached in and grabbed the bottle of Digitalis. Popping one into his mouth and rinsing it down with a warm diet soda, he was gripped with an overwhelming sadness. Sulkingly walking up to his room and sitting deftly on the bed he found himself back to where he had started. Eighteen months, two weeks, five days and four hours had passed since Sam Winchester had seen his brother. And depsite all his rationalizations to the contrary, Sam would give anything in his hour of need, to have his brother by his side. Sighing deeply he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Hitting speed dial he nervously brought the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" asked the familliar voice on the other end.

"Its Sam," he said trying to steady his nerves. "Something's happened. I need your help. We need to talk."

"Where are you?"

"Motel. Outside of Cortez, Colorado."

"I'm on my way."

"Hurry," Sam whispered as he flipped the phone shut.


	3. Mojave, California

Sam Winchester began pacing the room. Every minute that passed made him second guess his decision to call. Stopped briefly by a twinge in his chest, he dropped defeatedly onto the bed and began gently rubbing it. He didn't know what exactly he wanted or what he was going to do. He didn't want Dean to know he was sick or to be there for him or anything like that. He just wanted to see Dean. Hold his brother in his arms. For one brief minute, find the familiar comfort in which he longed for.

He was beginning to think he had made the mistake to call, but knew it couldn't be taken back. He wasn't sure how far he was or how long it would take him to get here. But Sam knew when he got there, he would be in need of answers. Some of which he didn't have and he wasn't really up for talking about the ones in which he had. As he sat on the bed, he began to make a list of the things he knew to expect. The reaction he would get. The test he would have to pass before polite conversation could begin. Things he had put off to the back of his mind for so long and which now were all coming to an abrupt head at the worst possible time.

A quick knock to the door broke him from his thoughts. Sighing heavily, he picked himself up, and answered.

"Hey there, Bobby," Sam said smiling half-heartedly.

Bobby looked at Sam in disbelief, but said nothing. Sam gulped, preparing to try and aleve some of the unease, but was met with a swift fist to the face.

"You ignorant, selfish, self righteous son of a bitch! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throttle you!"

Sam began to sit up, when he was struck by a wave of pain that sent him back to the floor. It dissipated moments later. Through squinted eyes he looked at Bobby, a mix of concern leaking thru his chiseled demeanor.

"What the hell was that?"

"That would be my heart," Sam replied abruptly as he pulled himself up and plopped down on the motel bed.

"Your heart?"

"Its the reason I called you here," he said trying to calm his breathing. "The reason I wanted to talk."

Bobby took one look at Sam and all his angered drained from his face. Feeling the anger ebb from his body, he sighed as he walked in the room and shut the door behind him. A second later, he sat softly on the bed next to Sam.

"I'm not doing too good Bobby."

"I can see that."

"I know, I should have told you. Should have told Dean. There's alot of things I should have done differently - "

"Sam, stop," Bobby interrupted. "I knew you were alive. Have known for a long time."

Sam looked at Bobby in confusion.

"How?"

"I kept an eye on Dean. He didn't know of course, but after what happened in Stull, the look on his face, I couldn't leave him like that. So I followed him to Cicero -"

"And you saw me."

"I wanted to say something - but you just popped out of thin air - I didn't know what to make of it. Then you just turned and left. Part of me wasn't sure if I had actually saw you or not. And to be honest, after everything, part of me didn't want to find out."

"I'm guessing that part won, huh?"

"And I'm sorry I let it."

"For what its worth, you made the right call."

"Now what's this about your heart?"

"We'll get into the details later, but for conversations purposes, my chest met with a steering wheel. Guess who won?"

"How bad is it?"

"I want to see Dean."

"_That bad_?"

"That bad."

"Sam, I don't think that's such a good idea."

"I know Bobby. I know he's moved on with his life - with Lisa - and I don't want to interrupt that -"

Sam's words were cut off by the look on Bobby's face.

"When's the last time you actually saw Dean?"

Despite the pain of the effort, Sam immediately sat up.

"The night in Cicero. Why?"

The look that came across Bobby's face left Sam in a sheer panic.

"Bobby, what happened?"

Bobby hesitated, which worried Sam even more.

"Bobby?"

"Sam, Dean ain't in Cicero. He ain't with Lisa."

"Where is he?"

"About six months after he got to Cicero, Dean had a breakdown. Major. Spent some time in a psych ward. After he got out, he packed up and left."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"Sam, no one has seen Dean in over a year."

ooooo

_Mojave, California_

Jon Namayeo washed the dishes.

He did this eleven hours each day, six days a week, every single week with the exception of Christmas, in which he was given time off to be with fhis family. He worked in this run down greasy spoon since he was a teenager. Since leaving the reservation after a brutal fist fight with his stepfather. He had aspirations of greatness, but like it is with most people, things didn't exactly go as he planned. He met a girl named Maria and they hit if off big. Before Jon knew it, she was pregnant. Now approaching thirty, married and father of three, his aspirations had long faded. His focus was now providing for his family in the hopes his children would get a chance to live their dreams.

It wasn't like working in a place like this was the place where dreams were made. Saddled on the roadside of a two lane blacktop in the middle of the desert it was a place for wayward tourists, truckers and those for whom more traditional establishments would bring too much attention. His wife said it was the perfect place for people who didn't want to be found. Which often meant that those who ventured in weren't looking to spend large amounts of cash. Thankfully he was on regular employ and not one of the diner's two waitresses, whose income revolved mostly on tips. In order to make any money, they stayed open twenty four hours. Which meant he was stuck working untraditional hours.

At just a little after midnight, his day had just begun. He started his shift as he always did. Working thru the mess left over from the morning shift. Eddie, the morning washer, was a punk teen runaway. Sandy- the graveyard shift waitress - often reffered to as emo given his penchant for black clothes, jewelry and eyeliner. He came to work when he pleased and always had a load left over that he didn't find the time to finish. Pinky, the owner and only cook, refused to fire him believing that at least by having a job, he'd stay out of trouble. Jon often thought it had more to do with the fact that Eddie wasn't all that bright and wouldn't mind working for less than minimum wage.

When he finished wiping the plate, Jon heard the familliar ting of the bell that signalled the arrival of customers. Always curious, he put aside his task and ventured a peek. He barely made it around the corner when he was left awestruck. Leaning forward in front of the jukebox was an incredibly tall, athletically built young woman with flawless olive skin, green eyes and long, wavy platinum hair. She was the closest thing to an angel Jon had ever seen. Intrigued, Jonf walked out from the kitchen and was immediately aware that he wasn't the only one.

Aside from Sandy and Pinky, who stood in rapt confusion from behind the counter, the remaining six customers (a family of four on their way to Los Angeles and two truckers enjoying a quiet pit stop) all seemed to be staring as well. Watching, almost helplessly as the woman took a quarter from her pocket and slid it into the slot, her well manicured nails carefully tapping the buttons to make her selection. Within seconds the familiar rythmic sounds began to fill the room. It was "Season of the Witch" by Donovan. He recognized it as one of the songs his mother used to play on the old record player they had growing up.

Jon watched as she moved her hips in motion to the music in such a fashion as it could have been described as something one would catch at the local strip joint. It was intoxicating, almost illegal feeling in some shape or form. He took a look around at everyone else in the diner. No one moved or made any motion about the spectale they were witnessing. Jon was about to say something, when a voice (almost songlike in its inflection) interrupted him.

"Hello, there."

Jon's attention swung immediately back to the woman, who was now leaning up against the jukebox, staring right at him. He tried, but found himself unable to speak. Pushing herself up off the jukebox, the young woman made a beeline straight for him.

"I know you are all just so happy to see me, and lets face it, who wouldn't be?" she replied smiling widely. "Firstly, I want to let you all know that, normally, I don't do backroads of hell places. They're always just so dull and boring. And well . . . _beneath me _and my utter magnificance. However, I woke up this morning and said 'what the hell, why not slum it.' I mean we all have to every once and a while."

Jon stood there helpless as she stopped in front of him anc caressed his cheek.

"And it was _so_ worth it. So many salty morsels for me to choose from, and I know just where to start."

It took everything Jon had to move. To make a sound. He watched in utter panic as she slid her hands to the side of his face, gently cocking his head to one side.

"W-who are you?" he asked in a muffled tone.

The woman only smiled. Within seconds her hand moved swiftly to the side of his neck, slicing it deeply. Grabbing Jon by the back of his head, she brought her lips to his wound . . . and drank. The occupants of the diner could only stand thier in frozen terror.

They knew that when she was done with Jon, they were next.


	4. Cortez, Colorado

"Dean's been missing a year, and you are just now telling me!" Sam said bolting up from the bed, immediately being hit with a wave of dizziness.

"Calm down, before you give yourself a coronary," Bobby replied easing the swaying Sam back to the bed. "Let me explain."

Sam sat with his head between his knees, his world literally spinning around him, "Please do."

Bobby sighed, "I don't know everything. I only got bits and even they ain't much. But from what Lisa told me, it was really good at first. He was really good. A little sad from time to time but they were genuinely happy."

"What changed?"

"Lisa said it was subtle at first. Nightmares. He would never talk about them. Then he started to forget things. Big things. Like driving to the store for groceries and be gone hours only to return home without groceries and not remember where he was. Then he would stare out into space for long periods of time. His behavior just started to escalate until one day, Lisa came home and Dean was just catatonic. They admitted him for a seventy two hour psych hold and by the time it was thru, he was fine. Lisa said he showed no signs of needing to stay longer. He was released under the condition that he talk to a psychiatrist. They brought him home and he went upstairs to rest. When Lisa went to check in on him later, he was gone. He had packed some clothes and went out the window. He even left the Impala behind. Panicked. She called me. I was there within the day."

"And what did you find?"

"From everything Lisa had told me it sounded like posession. But I found no signs or omens or any residual demonic forces anywhere near there. I even went about more unorthodox methods."

"Like what?"

"Well, lets just say I got my damn soul back."

"Crowley?"

"Yeah," Bobby said squirming at the name. Unpleasant memories rushing to the surface.

"What did he say?"

"That Dean wasn't posessed."

"And you believed him?"

"No. That's when he gave me my soul back. As a sign of goodwill."

"Dean wouldn't just leave like that Bobby."

"I know. So, I kept looking."

"And what did you find?"

"Nothing. And I mean I looked everywhere. I turned over every leaf but I found nothing supernatural about Dean's leaving. I began to chalk it up to him just deciding to bolt when Castiel paid me a visit. Said not to worry about Dean. He was being looked after."

Sam spoke his next words with an uneasy dread.

"What did he mean by being looked after?"

"He's alive," Bobby spat out quickly, sensing Sam's train of thought. "But other than that I don't know. Cas vanished soon after and I haven't been able to make contact with him since."

Sam began to process everything that Bobby had told him. He had always assumed that when he left Cicero that night that everything would be okay for Dean. He couldn't have fathomed how wrong he was.

"You okay?" Bobby asked putting a comforting arm on Sam's shoulder.

"We have to find him Bobby."

"I know."

ooooo

A black, dust laden, 1972 Cadillac El Dorado sat parked in a far corner of the parking lot. Had been for most of the night. Word of Sam Winchester's arrival in Cortez came quickly. Ever since he had first stepped foot in the Four Corners, she had put the word out with doctors, hospitals, morgues, and whatever hunters she could trust. If Sam returned, she wanted to be the first to know. She had been up in Twentynine Palms, investigating a possible chupacabra when she got the call. An old college friend, aware of her nocturnal activities, who worked at a local clinic recognized Sam's picture immediately and said he had been a patient. When he had the chance he pulled his chart and gave her the grim news.

Sam was injured in a car accident almost a year ago. Steering wheel slammed into his chest, directly over his heart. It was so hard that it resulted in severely abnormal and irregular heartbeat. Although his condition was soon stablized with medication, it became progressively worse. By the time he had arrived at Cortez, he had reached the end of the line. Surgery was his only salvation at this point and even that wasn't a guarentee. One thing was for certain. Without it, Sam would die. However, given his lifestyle and lack of insurance, that wasn't an easy option. She had to think of something, and soon. Time was a factor and not on her side.

It was made very clear to her that at this point, medication only brought short term relief. A heart attack was inevitable, if not imminent. If it happened it could weaken him beyond all medical ability to repair or in the right circumstances, kill him instantly. So much had to get done in such a short time. She had to bring the band back together. She had to reunite Sam with his brother. Not only for his sake, but for her own as well. She needed thier insight. The expertise. And most importantly, thier connections. Every hunter knew the Winchester road with angels. Its one of the reasons most hunters steered clear. She was always told they were no good. That they were evil, especially Sam. Some said he was even the devil incarnate.

As she reached over to grab the microwave burrito she grabbed at the Gas & Gulp a mile back, she heard her phone ring. Glancing at the name on her screen, he grabbed it instead.

"This is Kristina," she said as she quickly pressed the answer button.

"Hey, Kris, its Zander," he replied in a somber tone.

"How many this time?"

"Nine. Took out the entire occupants of a roadside diner in the Mojave."

Kristina cringe in frustration.

"That's unlike her."

"Yeah, doesn't she steer clear of rural areas?"

"She finds them boring," Kristina said as she began rumaging thru the glovebox. "The more activity the more excited she gets. Makes it easy for her to feed."

"How did you know she had fed, anyway?"

"She's up to something," Kristina said avoiding the subject.

"Kris?"

"That's not important," she replied pulling a map out of the glovebox. "Now you said this latest attack was in Mojave, right?"

"Right. Now tell me how did you know she had fed?"

Kristina mumbled.

"What was that? I didn't quite hear it."

"I've been hungry."

Zander got quiet. Which only made Kristina more edgy. A whole minute had passed before he spoke again.

"Burger King hungry or Type-O hungry."

"Let's just say I've been eating my steaks rare lately."

"Why didn't you tell me you we're having cravings?"

"They're not technically cravings, per se", Kristina admitted sheepishly. "And I didn't want to worry you."

"And what would they be, _per se_?"

"I will be fine, Zander. We have more important problems."

"You're craving blood for the first time in five years. That's important."

"I have amazing self control."

"Kris, I know you do. But something's going on here."

"She's up to something. I know my sister, Zander. She's killed people. But _never_ this many. Counting the nine in Mojave, we're looking at nearly a hundred people in the last eighteen months and if she's going out to the rural regions, it may be more we don't even know about yet."

"It can't be a coincidence. There has to be more to it."

"What, exactly, I don't know. But I am going to find out."

"How are things going on your end?"

"A little complicated but nothing I can't handle."

"Do you think we'll find him . . . the angel?"

"If we find Dean Winchester, we'll find the angel."

"Do you really think he'll be able to help?"

"He's an angel, Zander."

"Yeah, but I kinda heard they're dicks."

"Dicks or not,_ he will help us," _Kristina stated staring out intensly at the motel room across the lot. "Go to Mojave. Find out as much as you can. Then meet me in Cortez as soon as possible."

"What are you going to do?"

"What I have to," she spat flipping her phone shut.


	5. Bloomfield, New Mexico

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Sam fidgeted.

Ever since he explained to Bobby in detail about his condition, the eldest hunter made it a point to check his vitals on an hourly basis.

"This isn't really necessary, you know," he said as he anxiously watched Bobby take his pulse.

"You just told me that you're on the shortlist for a heart attack and you refuse to go to a hospital," Bobby countered. "_Pacify me_."

Several uncomfortable seconds passed before Bobby let go of his wrist. The look on his face said volumes.

"Don't give me that look, Bobby."

"You shouldn't be running around like this."

"They're isn't anything they can do for me, Bobby."

"They can do the surgery. I know plenty of guys with IED's who live productive, normal lives."

"And how exactly am I supposed to swing a couple hundred thousand dollar surgery, not to mention the time I would be laid up in the hospital with fake insurance?"

"You know you're just like your dad. Stubborn as a brick wall."

"I'm not being stubborn Bobby. I'm being realistic."

"The reality is this, Sam: you aint doing too hot. I know that. You know that. You need surgery. I know that. You know that. Having that surgery will be risky. I know that. You know that. But what you don't know and what I am going to tell you is that its not hopeless. Now, I have a friend in Kayenta, his daughter's a cardiologist who used to work for the Mayo Clinic. I want us to go there, have her take a look at you. She may be able to help."

"The doctor's at the clinic told me surgery was my only option."

"And it ain't gonna hurt to get a second opinion. I've known Stephenie since she was a munchkin. She's very smart. If anyone can find a way out of this she can."

Sam didn't wnat to waste his time on false hope. Especially when Dean was out there, somewhere, and god only knew if he was okay.

"I wanna look for Dean."

Frustrated, Bobby took a seat next to Sam.

"And what are you going to do when you find him? Have some glorious deathbed reunion? It isn't fair to you or to him."

"Life isn't fair Bobby."

"True. But you seem to be getting more chances than most. I highly doubt that God brought you back only to let you die again."

Sam looked at Bobby with cynical glare, "And what makes you think God brought me back?"

"Castiel told me he did."

Sam was immeidately taken aback. He had always gone under the assumption that something nasty had been behind his return. It had never occured to him that maybe it was something else.

"Don't look so surprised, Sam."

For the first time since he had gotten sick, Sam felt something he never thought he could again: hopeful. If God had brought him back, maybe, just maybe there was more to it. Maybe, he had a chance after all.

"How long would be gone?"

"Not long. Kayenta's only about an hours drive. We could be there and back before breakfast."

"Then lets do it."

If Sam was going down. He sure as hell would go down swinging. A smile crept across his face. If Dean could see him, he would be so proud. For now he would have to put his trust in Castiel. Whatever was going on with Dean, he knew that his brother would need him. And he would have to be a hundred percent.

ooooo

_Bloomfield, New Mexico_

Zander sat in the motel room combing thru police reports and coroner's files. One of the perks of working small towns was when you flashed a badge, people tended to believe it, whether it was real or not. The crime scene photos alone were gruesome. Some of the most disturbing shit he had ever seen. She had done more than feed. She had drained them dry. Just like she had the last twenty or so victims they researched. She needed to feed to stay alive, but it wasn't so much the quantity or the quality of the feeding, but the fact that at some point blood was ingested, that seemed to do the trick. She was always different.

When she fed, she gorged. She had ingested more blood than anyone he had ever come across. Because of this she was able to access a part of herself most of them feared to think of. This made her incredibly powerful and increasingly unpredictable. She was also incredibly smart. She never killed more than five or six people a year. Always stuck to the cities because the high crime rate and overwhelmed police forces made it easier for to go unnoticed. And she never left anyone alive. Unlike the rest of them she could do things that were unnatural even for them. Things that made her incredibly dangerous and almost impossible to find.

They had resigned themselves to the fact that she couldn't be stopped. So they all went about their own lives. That was, until the killings began to increase. That's when Kristina returned. No one had seen or even spoke with Kristina in over five years. She had walked away from them in order to build herself a normal life and from what she heard, she had. That was until she learned of the killings and that her sister was involved. They tried staying under the radar as much as possible. No one knew their kind existed anymore. And they sure as hell wanted to keep it that way. They had rules they were all expected to follow if any of they were going to survive.

Rule #1: You only feed to stay alive as anything else could draw unwanted attention.

Rule #2: Never feed on the innocent.

Rule #3: Feed on the living only if you have no other options.

Rule #4: If you feed on the living, leave no one alive.

Rule #5: Don't do or say anything that would put you in the public eye.

Rule 6: Above all things, keep your mouth shut.

Sure they all broke the rules from time to time but as long as it didn't draw attention to them, it ususally went ignored. Everyone kept weary of the rules and although some danced a fine line, they never crossed it. That was, until now. He wasn't sure why she had started her rampage. And they had every resource at their disposal searching for one. All that was known was that she had to be stopped. And not just because of the carnage she was leaving in her wake. For all their supernatural tendancies, they were half-breeds. Their human bodies only able to handle so much. It was one of the reasons they were careful to watch what they ate, and never nutured many of the abilities that came along with it.

As much as she was determined to stop her sisters rampage, Kristina also feared for her sister's life. Kristina had more first hand knowledge with their supernatural sides than most others. Had been in contact with most pure breds than she would have liked. Kristina knew that if she didn't stop her sister, she wouldn't survive. There would come a point, and Zander wagered it was pretty soon, that she would consume too much. And that it would kill her. Zander admitted that he was never a fan, especially seeing how much Kristina suffered because her sister's actions. But from what he had been told, it wasn't a death he would wish on his worst enemies. Not to mention, what it would do to Kristina if she died.

Kristina and her sister were always connected in a way that most others didn't quite understand and many others envied. They were close. Moreso than most siblings. Alot of it had to do with how they were raised. Losing their parents young, Kristina and her sister bounced from foster home to foster home with only constant thing in their lives being one another. A relationship and a bond part sibling, part parental it was something that defied any true attempts definition. It also ran deep. Something that he admired, but frightened him at the same time. It was one of the reasons she was so willing to believe this angel, Castiel, could be of any help to them. An alternative to the only realistic option they had.

Sighing, he put the pictures aside. He needed to get some sleep as he planned to make the drive out to Cortez come sunrise. If this angel couldn't bring a miracle, then Zander knew what would have to be done. Brie had to be stopped. She would have to be put down. God help anyone or anything that got in his way.


	6. Elizabeth Lake, California

_Elizabeth Lake, California_

The smell of freshly baked cookies met Remy Slade as he walked thru his front door.

He smiled.

"Kayla?" he asked as he closed the door behind him. "You home?"

As he walked in the direction of the kitchen, the hairs on the back of his neck stood stiff. Dropping his duffle bag to the floor, he made a beeline towards the kitchen.

"Kayla!"

Before he could reach the doorway, his back was hit with a sudden thwack, sending him directly towards the floor. Spots shot out before his eyes as he tried to focus them. Heavy footsteps could be heard approaching from within the kitchen. They stopped right beside him and placed their foot on his chest.

"You've gone soft," the whispered as the figure's face finally came into focus.

"Brie?"

You need to be more careful, Rem," she laughed as she lifted up her foot and extended her arm to help him up. "I could have been a bad guy."

Remy grabbed Brie's hand and as he lifted himself up, quickly got the better of her, smacking her hard into the floor. All she did was laugh.

"If I didn't know any better Remy, I would swear this was foreplay."

_"What are you doing here?"_ he seethed, unable to hide his anger.

Brie stared at Remy startled, genuinely taken aback by his response.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I could ask the same of you. I know what you've been doing, Brienna."

Brie's demeanor soured as she lifted up her foot, and with tremendous strength and stealth, hit Remy square in the chest. As the younger man flew up into the air and into the kitchen, Brie bounced up and with inhuman swiftness, met him there and grabbed him by the neck before his body could make contact with a nearby nook.

"And how would you know that?"

"Kristina . . . " he squeaked breathlessly. "She's been telling everyone - about what you've done."

Disgusted Brie let go of her grip and watched as Remy made contact with the granite floor.

"Kristina knows nothing! And what she thinks she knows will ruin everything."

Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, Remy bounced up and grabbed Brie by the neck, slamming he against the wall.

"This is the last time I am going to ask nicely. Where is Kayla?"

"Grocery . . . store. Left you a note on the table, next to the cookies."

Remy turned his head towards the table, and sure enough, there was a note lying beside it. Satisfied, he let Brie go and leaned against the kitchen counter.

"What exactly did my sister tell you?"

"That you were feeding . . . moreso than usual. Moreso than should be possible. That it was dangerous."

"Why, becuase it may expose our existence to Hunters? Newflash, Rem, we are Hunters. Its been a cover that has worked to our advantage for countless generations."

"So its true?"

"There's more to it than what Kristina is telling you. She's always had tunnel vision when it comes to her true nature, we all know that. Non-human equals freak. Equals monster. There is no middle ground with her. Why do you think she left? Why do you think she has done all she can to pretend she is just your average human. She's ashamed of herself. Ashamed of us."

Remy hated to admit that was true. For as long as he had known Kristina she had gone out of her way to seperate herself from the rest of them and hold herself in a higher stature becuase she couldn't deal with who and what she was.

"I'm not going to ask you why you're doing what you're doing because I know I wouldn't get a straight answer out of you anyway. But, also, because I am showing faith in you. You may have always been a little more wild than the rest of us, but you would never do anything that might possibly expose us if you didn't think you had good reason for it."

"Thank you."

"But, Brie, she said you could die."

Brie looked up at Remy surprised.

"And why would she think that?"

"You have to remember, we're only half-breeds. For all the other stuff, we are still part human. The more you feed, the more powerful you get. We still have human bodies. They can only take so much."

"What exactly did Kristina say?"

"You know that Kristina has had contact with pure breds -"

"Yeah, they're the ones that taught her that amazing 'I dont need to drink blood to survive' self control of hers. What do they have to do with any of this?"

"Brie -"

"Just spit it out already!"

"According to the pure breds, one of the reasons they started mating with humans is that the power they maintain is overwhelming. Glorious, but ultimately damaging. Blood is what fuels our powers. Long ago, our numbers were plentiful until the desire for power and the thirst for blood became more than they could handle. They began to gorge. With each feed, gaining more power. Eventually this power became all consuming and they turned to evil. That is when the Hunters came for them and wiped them out to near extinction. By mating with humans, creating half breeds, they severly limited what they're bodies - "

"This isn't something I have known since I was a child, now just get back to the part where I supposedly can die."

"From what Kristina saw when she was with the pure breds is that when a half breed gets to a point where they have consumed too much blood, they become ill. From what she could tell the blood starts acting like a poison. Running its course thru your body until it eventually reaches your heart and - "

"I die."

"Yeah. Now, according to the pure breds, there is a cure, but its almost impossible to find."

"What is it?"

"Blood from an angel."

"An angel? As is in the fluffy little winged things you see on the front of Hallmark cards?"

"Well aparently they're alot fiercer than that. But that is the general idea."

"And where exactly are we going to find an angel.? I highly doubt that one is just lazing around playing foosball with the mortals."

"Actually, one is. Have you heard of the Winchester brothers?"

"Yeah, who hasn't. They're legends."

"Yeah, well apparently they run with an angel. Kristina and Zander are in pursuit of the youngest one, Sam, in the hopes he'll lead them to it."

"Sam?" Brie asked shocked. "I thought he was dead."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Ran into a group of Hunters a while back. Said that Sam Winchester had died over a year ago."

"Well aparently, they were wrong because Kristina and Zander have been following him for months."

"When's the last time you spoke to my sister?"

"Yesterday," Remy said as he turned around and grabbed a cookie off the plate.

"Did she say where she was?"

"Cortez," he replied with a mouth full of cookie.

"Colorado?"

Remy nodded as he turned around and stuffed another piece of cookie into his mouth before turning his attention back to Brie.

But she was already gone.

ooooo

The landscape was dark and frigid with only the light of the full moon illuminating onto the ground below. He looked around confused. In all directions nothing but rocks and sand. He realized he was in the desert.

"Hello?" he called out into the night, with only his echo to answer.

Becoming more and more frigid with each passing second he began to walk. He needed to keep himself warm. He didn't have any particular reason to walk in a certain direction, nor did he know why he began to pick up his pace as he walked. By the time he realized what he was doing, he was jogging - scratch that - running as if he was being chased. His back ached. His legs tingled. His heart beat so hard and loud he could swear he could hear it in his ears. The more he ran, the more defeaning it became.

Then just as suddenly as he began running, he stopped. His heart now painfully thundering in his chest he saw two shadowed figures before him. Although he was too far away to see the faces one was crouched down beside the other, cradling them in their arms. Curiously, he pressed forward. The pain from his heart growing intense with each step. When the pain finally became to much to bear, he brought his hand to his chest, and fell to his knees.

And thru pain slanted eyes, he finally saw what was happening. The crouched figure was doing more than just cradling the other. They were feeding on them. It took only a second before panic began to settle in as he recognized who that figure was.

"Dean?"

Sam watched as the figure raised its head and to his fear, it was his brother, his mouth and face covered with blood.

"NO!"

" . . . we're about ten minutes from the reservation." was the first thing Sam heard as he woke up with a start, his hand flying immediately to his chest.

He barely heard Bobby as he called his name. Barely realized he had grabbed the elder hunter's hand so tightly his knuckles turned white. Barely able to realize that it was only a dream. All he knew of was the white hot pain in his chest, neck and arms. All he knew was the image he saw of his brother.

"Dean," he whispered softly, before losing consciousness.


	7. Kayenta, Arizona

_Kayenta, Arizona_

Consciousness returned to Sam slowly. Muffled voices grew louder and louder with each passing second until they became deafening. He raised his arm to stiffel it, only to feel incredilbly sore. Especially his chest. It felt as if a linebacker was sitting on top of it. He shifted slightly, alerting those in the room that he was waking up. Shuffled feet made their way towards him.

"Sam?"

He immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Bobby.

"I'll get Dr. Krill," said another, huskier voice that Sam didn't recognized.

As he blinked, images slowly came into focus.

"You gave me quite a scare there boy," Bobby said as he grabbed Sam by the hand and gave it a tight squeeze.

"I heard he's awake," said a softer, obviously feminine voice from the other side of the room.

"Yeah, just now," Bobby said turning in the direction of the voice, his hand never leaving Sam's.

"Hey, there Sam. Its nice to see you up and around," she said extending her hand out to Sam. "I'm Dr. Stephenie Krill. "

"Like the fish?"

"Yeah, like the fish," she laughed. "I have my ex-husband Burt to thank for that one. Please, call me Stephenie."

"Its nice to meet you Stephenie," Sam shaking her extended hand.

"Do you remember what happened?" Stephenie replied as she let go of Sam's hand and placed a clipboard on a nearby table.

"Bobby and I were on our way here. I had this dream . . . and the pain. There was a lot of pain."

"Yeah," Stephenie said as she sat on the edge of the bed. "Can you tell me a little bit more about that dream?"

Sam gave Bobby a hesitant look. Catching on to his wary behavior they elder hunter gave an approving nod.

"My brother," Sam whispered for the first time noticing the weakness in his own voice. "I had a dream that he was in trouble."

"What kind of trouble," Bobby asked curiously.

Sam swallowed before slowly recounting to those in the room the nature of his dream about Dean. Taking note that each reaction was slightly different. Bobby, who squeezed his hand even tighter, was frought with concern and fear. Two nurses and an orderly whose nametag read ED, seemed to go about their business as if the story he was telling was something more commonplace. He then turned to the good doctor, whose face was blank, but whose eyes gleamed with a strange knowing. As if he was confirmiing something she had long suspected. When he had finished, he turned to the doctor, his face scrunched in anger.

"You don't seem very suprised by this?" he said as his anger began to rise up within him. "Why?"

Stephenie looked to Bobby, who let go of Sam's hand.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he stated as he got up and abruptly left the room.

"Bobby - "

Stephenie turned to the others in the room.

"Leave us and close the door behind you!"

Sam was taken aback by the sudden authority of her voice. The others in the room stopped what they were doing and did as she asked. When the door was finally shut, Stephenie turned to him, a look so hideous it could kill sprang across her face.

"After a full exam and consultation with your previous medical records, I found that your illness was not caused by your accident."

"But the other doctors were certain that it was."

"Your other doctors said what they did because it was the closest thing they could think of that made any type of sense to them. They wouldn't know what it was they were really looking at."

"And you do?"

"Its called Áńt'į. Corpse poison."

"Corpse poison?"

"Yeah, its made from grinding up the bones of the dead, particularly children. Its a substance used often in The Witchery Way, Navajo witchcraft, particulary in hexes."

"I've been hexed?"

"Not in the sense that you understand it. More like supernaturally poisoned. You would have had to ingested it."

"Is there an antidote?"

Stephenie looked to Sam sadly, "No."

Sam tried to keep his emotions from getting the better of him. "But when? And why?"

"Does the name Molly Leonard ring a bell?"

Sam nodded as painful memories began to resurface, "Yeah, I knew her. I got her killed."

"She's also the reason you were hexed. Her father Cyrus is a known practioner of The Witchery Way."

"So I'm being punished for getting her killed?"

"No, you're being punished for killing her."

"But I didn't."

"Cyrus doesn't know that. He knows of your shaky past and your sudden, mysterious return from the depths of Hell. Its not that much of a stretch for him to think the worst."

Sam hung his head in guilt and shame as free tears began to spill from his face. Stephenie looked at him with saddenend, yet resolved.

"You didn't kill Molly. She wasn't targeted because of you."

"I highly doubt that."

"I know that. The thing that you were hunting is something else my people know all too well. Its why I made everyone leave the room. To speak of it is forbidden. To even mention the creature by name strikes fear in the hearts of many."

"But not you?"

"I've seen many things. There is very little that frightens me anymore."

"What kind of creature is this?"

"Its called Yee Naaldlooshii. Or to put it simply: Skin-Walker."

"I've read about those. They're like the Native American equivlaent to shapeshifters."

"Actually, more like Native American equivalent to werewolves. Long ago, practioners of the Witchery Way used to use pelts of animals to transform themselves into that animal as a way to spy on enemies or deliver curses to their victims. It is said that one day a Practioner crossed paths with The Dark Man. And that The Dark Man showed the Practioner that if he were to drink the blood of the animal instead of simly where it pelt it could transform at will. So the Practioner did just that. And just as The Dark Man said he could transform into that animal at will. However the transformation did not last long and the Practioner drank more blood. He continued drinking until finally he had drank so much that he found he could no longer turn back into human form. That he had become the animal. Desperate and frightened, he looked for a way to turn back. He went to The Dark Man who told him that what he said that if he want to turn back into a human, he had to drink the blood of a human. And so the Practioner did just that. But like it was with the animal, the transformation did not last long. However, no matter how much human blood the Practioner drank he would never fully turn back to a human being again. He realized he had been tricked by The Dark Man. This was not a gift. It was his curse. It would be the price he and all those who descended from him would pay for his insatisable greed. And so the Skin-Walkers roam, feeding on the living, in the hopes of one day consuming enough blood to break them of their curse."

"And you think that's what killed Molly?"

"I know it is. And not just her. We maybe hear of a dozen deaths a year we can link directly to a Skin-Walker. Within the last eighteen months there has been eighty seven confirmed dead. All localized in and around the Four Corners."

"But what does any of this have to do with my being poisoned?"

"There is nothing medically that can be done for you. Its what makes the curse so nasty. But if we can find this Skin-Walker, they may be our only hope of saving you."


	8. Cicero, Indiana

_Cicero, Indiana_

Lisa Braden washed the dishes. Looking out of the corner of her eye at her son, Ben, who was quietly doing his homework at the kitchen table.

"You almost done baby?"

Ben nodded.

"Good. When you're done I need you to get washed up and get ready for bed."

Ben nodded.

Frustrated, Lisa put the dishes aside and walked over to the table. Ben had been silent for almost a year. The doctors had assured her that there wasn't anything physically wrong with him to explain why he wouldn't talk. They had suggested he see a psychiatrist, and Lisa agreed. It had done very little to change Ben's mood. He would nod occasionally. Use hand gestures. But never speak. It was unnerving and cut her deeply.

"Sweetie," she whispered as she sat down beside her son. "I really wish you would start talking to me."

Lisa grabbed Ben's hand for support, but Ben only pulled away. Anger rose up inside of her, but not at her son, no. She could never be mad at him. She was angry at the man she held responsible for his condition: Dean Winchester. Ben hadn't been the same since Dean vanished. She wasn't stupid. She knew that whatever had happened to Dean that night, Ben had been involved somehow. She knew her son had seen something, something awful, that would create a scar so deep he would be traumatized to this very day. At first it had made her afraid. Fear of what awful thing had happened to Dean permiating her every thought. That is until Bobby called and said that Dean was fine. When she asked what had happened, she was told he couldn't really explain. The conversation ended there and Bobby hadnt bothered to drop her a line since.

The fear for Dean never subsided, not completely, but rage began to grow within. A rage that grew with each passing day. Anger at Dean for bringing supernatural things into her home. Things that traumatized her son into becomming mute. As aware of the lifestyle as she was, Dean, whether it was his fault or not, brought something into her home. She didn't think she could ever forgive him for that. Holding back tears, Lisa got up and continued on with the dishes. She made little acknowledgement when Ben put his pencil down and headed upstairs. When she knew he was out of earshot, she began to cry.

From atop the stairs, Ben stood looking down towards the room below. His blank expression growing slowly into a crooked smile. Turning around he made his way up to the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind him.

"What took you so long?" asked a scruffy, accented voice from behind.

"The bitch wouldn't stop watching me," he said turning to face thsy voice.

Standing in a tall, tailored Armanit suit, the demon known as Crowley sighed.

"I don't get why you're still hiding out in the small fry?"

"He could still prove to be useful."

"How, Dean Winchester's no longer here. The angel made sure of it."

"He won't stay gone for long."

"And how can you be so sure?"

Ben blinked, revealing black eyes, "His brother's alive. And when it comes to Sammy, Dean won't be able to stay away."

"A Winchester family reunion isn't exactly the best thing for us right now."

"You've always been so short sighted!" he spat. "I blame Lilith for making you that way."

"Sam and Dean are an immovable force when together," Crowley replied. "Wouldn't keeping them apart be best until we're at _least_ further along with the plan?"

"The Winchesters' won't even know we're invovled until its too late. I've arranged a distraction or two. For the plan to move forward, I need a few things to happen first. Important things that can only go down if they're together."

"But -"

"I didn't survive the apocalypse on stupidity Crowley," he interrupted. "And I will not stand for my servants questioning me. Is that clear?"

"Loud and clear."

"Now get out of my sight."

Within a blink, Crowley was gone. From within the hallway Lisa Braden backed slowly away from the door, desperately trying to keep her silence. She made it almost to the stairs when she found herself flung up against the hallway wall. She watched in silent horror as her son, his dark eyes gleaming, made his way down the hallway to stand before her. Lisa tried to move, but was immovable. She tried to scream, but had no voice.

"Hello Lisa," he spoke in almost a sing-song type of voice. "How fortunate of you to reveal yourself to me like this."

Lisa watched as he raised his hand, inching her body closer and closer to the ceiling. She closed her eyes and prayed. When she stopped moving she suddenly found herself able to speak, to scream, but did neither. A sudden, sharp pain grew across her abdomen as she felt the warm drip of blood begin to flow off from her wound. The demon laughed as the pain grew sharper. Lisa prayed even harder. Not for herself, but for her son. That he would make it out of this in one piece. That he would be spared the pain and agony that was being inflicted upon her. The demons laughter suddenly turned into an agonizing cry. A bellow both demonic and human. Before she could open her eyes to see what had happened, she felt the sensation of falling. As if she were a puppet whose strings had been cut. As she threw her arms out to try and lessen the impact, she realized she was being scooped up . Opening her eyes she saw a tall, scruffy man with a tan trench coat had caught her as she fell.

"You will be fine Lisa!" he said in a very deep commanding tone.

"Castiel?" was the last thing she said before darkness consumed her.

ooooo

_Kayenta, Arizona_

"What does finding this Skin-Walker have anything to do with saving me?"

"Corpse poison works one of two ways: it either works like an actual poison and kills its victims within days or it exacerbates an underlying medical conditon to create a slow and painful death. After examining you I came to realize that you must have had a heart problem prior to your accident because there is nothing in your injuries from that accident that would have caused your current condtion. It probably just brought to the foreground something that was already there. My guess is that your heart may have been damaged as a result of your demon blood addiction."

Sam looked at Stephenie surprised.

"I'm a doctor. If I am to treat you correctly I need to know everything about your medical history."

"So the blood damaged my heart."

"Bobby said it worked alot like a drug addiciton. And drugs can damage your heart. What you had probably wouldn't have killed you. It wouldn't probably even be an issue if not for the hex."

"And finding a Skin-Walker will help me how?"

"My father has confirmed that Cyrus was the one that hexed you. He knows as much as anyone that the thirst of a Skin-Walker is uncontrollable. If we can bring proof that it was the Skin-Walker who killed Molly, he may release you from the curse."

"He can do that?"

"He's the only one that can. Every hex is unqiue to the practioner who cast it. Only they know how to undo it."

"Then what do we do in the meantime?"

"We try our best to keep you alive. Hex or not, your still pretty sick. You're lucky Bobby got you here when he did, otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to stop the arrythmia. Any longer and you would have been looking at a heart attack at twenty eight."

"So what do we do now?"

"I want to start you on a comprehensive cardiac rehabilitation therapy. We used it alot to treat patients when I was working up at the Mayo clinic. It won't cure what ails you but it should make you strong enoug to go looking for your brother."

Dean. Sam's mind quickly raced back to his dream. To those horrible thoughts that plagued his mind not so long ago. Hoping beyond all hopes that his irrational fears, growing in the back of his mind, were untrue.


	9. Battle Creek, Michigan

_Battle Creek, Michigan_

Lisa Braden awoke with a start. Her mind still in a momentary fog it took only moments for the events of Cicero to come rushing back to her.

"Ben!"

Lisa felt a soft, yet firm hand on her shoulder. She turned to see the scruffy, trenchcoat sporting angel sitting beside her.

"Benjamin is fine, Lisa," he spoke in a straightforward yet comforting manner his head slightly cocked to the side where Ben lay sleeping. "He is tired, but physically fine."

Sprinting up from the bed, Lisa ran to Ben's side. Her hands covering every inch of his body to ensure for herself that he had not been harmed. Satisfied with her own minstrations, she turned her attention to the angel, anger and confusion covering her face.

"What happened?"

"Ben was possessed by a demon. We are still trying to determine who they were and what they wanted."

Lisa turned her head to Ben, slowly stroking her hand over his head.

"They wanted Dean."

A veiled expression crept across Castiel's face.

"How do you know this?"

"I overheard it talking to another demon, I didn't hear all of it. But from what I gathered, they were waiting for Dean to show up here. I got caught before I heard why."

"What reason did they have for Dean to return to you?"

"That's the strangest thing," Lisa said with a knowing glance. "They said something about Sam being alive."

Castiel seemed taken aback.

"Did they say anything else you can remember. It's important you tell me everything."

Unable to stand the polite conversation anymore, Lisa got up from Ben's beside and got into the angel's perplexed face.

"Where's Dean."

"Lisa, I don't think -"

"Don't patronize me with what you think. You know where Dean is. Bobby told me so. I want to see him."

"No, you don't."

"And why wouldn't I?"

Lisa could see a pained expression cross Castiel's face. The tension in her eased, soon to be replaced with mind numbing fear.

"You don't want to see him, Lisa," he replied softly as he placed a comforting arm on her shoulder. "Not like this."

"You're starting to scare me," Lisa whispered as she fought back her tears. "What aren't you telling me?"

Castiel hesitated and Lisa could tell that he was deciding whether or not he should answer her. The more time that went on, the more unsure she had become that she wanted him to. After what seemed like ages, he looked her dead set in the eyes, and she could see tears welling in them.

"Sit down."

Lisa did as she was told, not questioning the order. She watched as Castiel sat quietly beside her, grabbing softly the hands she had no clue she had been ringing.

"What has Dean told you about how we met?"

"He told me that you were the one that rescued his soul from Hell."

"Did he tell you why?"

"He said it was because you were trying to stop him from breaking the first seal that would start the Apocalypse."

Castiel nodded, "We were unsuccessful. When we knew what Lilith had planned for Dean, our entire garrison laid siege to Hell. It was long, and bloody, many were lost. But in the end we were able to drag Dean's soul from pit."

"What does any of this have to do with what happened to Dean."

"Rescuing a soul from Hell, especially one so guarded as Dean's was, is not an easy feat. It was miraculous that I was able to get to him at all. Let alone in one piece. Or at least, it was believed."

"What are you saying."

"A part of Dean's soul. A small part. Remained in the pit after I had rescued him. We didn't realize it at first and by the time we did, enough time had passed without any incident, we thought it wasn't going to be a problem."

"Not a problem? You left part of his soul in Hell!"

"Lisa please remain calm, we don't want Ben to wake up and hear this."

Lisa spied a look at Ben before nodding at Castiel to continue.

"Time moves differently in hell. What amounts to a month on earth is equal to a decade in the pit. For almost forty years Dean was in Hell he was tortured, split apart, and put back together again more times than we can count. Each time he was reconstructed, it was never completely whole. He was broken. We were expecting that. What we weren't expecting was that his wounds would be anything bigger than tiny fragments. We were wrong. When we learned about what had happened, we laid siege to get it back, but we never could make it back down. By the time it became safe to lay a full on assault too much time had passed. We couldn't go back."

"Why not?"

Castiel sighed deeply, "After what happened to Dean in the pit, he would never be the same. Nothing was going to change that. He knew he was different. He knew there was something missing in him. He didn't know what that was, but he dealt with it. He adjusted. He learned to live without that part of him that was gone forever. To try and put Dean back together now would be catastrophic. It was better to leave him the way he was. You must understand. Over five hundred years have passed in Hell. Even if we were to go back for the piece of Dean that is missing. It would hardly resemble anything close to a soul anymore. That much time downstairs, things change. It would be alot like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole."

"What does any of this have to do with what happened to Dean, and why I can't see him?"

"The longer something stays in Hell, the more it changes. The more it forgets what it was or where it came from. The more it burns away all that is good in you. All that is human. Even if it was just a small piece, it spent over five hundred years like a untreated, festering wound. It grew. And as it grew, it changed. It grew into something else. Something unexpected."

"What did it become?" Lisa asked, unsure if she wanted an answer.

"It became a demon."


	10. West Puente Valley, California

"You're telling me that Dean's a demon?"

"Yes and no."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"The only one that I have. You have to understand. Dean is Michael's vessel. That makes Dean special. His soul is important. His soul is just not any soul. Normally a fragmented soul would be just that. A fragment. Incomplete. It would just sit there in the bowls of Hell, eventually blending into the scenery as a mass of evil energy. That's not what happend. Being that it was Dean's soul that was fragmented it reacted differently. Instead of being a demonic amoeba, it evolved, it changed. It began acting and reacting as if it was a complete soul. So as it began being tormented and tortured, it turned itself into a new animal. A demonic animal."

"Like a Hell Hound?"

"Only with a much bigger bite. The problem is, although it had become its own entity, it was still a part of Dean. It was still connected to him. Therefore it couldn't escape the pit and just take on any meatsuit. It had to return to its own. However since its not a fully formed soul, that is easier said than done. It tried to overtake Dean on several occasions, which would explain the change in his behavior, but it couldn't hold onto him for long. It still wasn't powerful enough to control Dean. It's hold on him was always temporary."

"So Bobby was right. Dean was being possessed."

"But not in the traditional sense. Which is why they never had any evidence to prove it."

"So all of the incidents. The blackouts, the cataonia, that was all part of his possession?"

"Yes. Damaging Dean with each attempt."

"Damaged, how?" Lisa asked her concern palpable.

"Like I said before. Its like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. Each time you try to force it into where it cannot fit, it leaves marks. Each time the fragment tried to force its way back into Dean it left his remaining soul frayed. Adding fresh wounds to a soul that is filled with jagged edges. Those edges began to wear down and eventually turned into a large tear, which is what left him catatonic. We mended the tear the best we could, which is what caused his miraculous turn around. However, he knew, as did we, that the fragment would keep trying to force itself back into himself. So as much as it pained him, he left you and Ben behind and came into our protection. To protect himself, as well as you and Ben."

"So he left to save us?"

"Yes."

"Then why can't I see him?"

Castiel cupped the side of Lisa's tear stained face.

"We mended the tear. However the adhesive, for lack of a better word, that we used to do so hasn't been sticking. The tear re-opens and it has to be mended again. It happens frequently. Each time the tear gets just a bit bigger. We're trying to find a way to make it whole again, but nothing has been successful."

"What is it doing to him?"

"He's lost much of his sanity. He has times of lucidity but other times he delves into full on mania or panic. Its hard to control and is becomming more frequent. Its has become worse over the course of the year. During his lucid states he has asked that he be kept away from those he loves for fear of not only seeing him suffer that way."

"What will happen if the tear rips completely open?"

"The agony would be too great for his soul to withstand."

"He'll die."

"Yes."

"And what will happen if the fragment is able to find a way to permanently take hold of Dean."

"All demons begin as humans. But Dean is more than just any human. He is Michael's vessel. If the fragment is able to take control of Dean then we are looking at a creature as powerful, if not more so, than Lucifer himself."

_West Puente Valley, California_

Brie Coulson sat on the bed of the rickety motel room downing the last of what was a six pack of her favorite beer. She usually wasn't much for drinking, but lately she had been doing a lot of what she wouldn't normally do. She would be the first to deny such things but the conversation with Remy had thrown her. She knew going in that this was going to be dangerous. And that she was more than likely not come out of this alive. But to speculate one's demise was much different from knowing for a fact that it was going to happen. If Kristina was right, and she usually was, then this was going to end badly for her. But she had to go through with it. It was the only way it could be done. The only way she would be strong enough to face what she knew to be coming.

As she sipped the last of the beer, tossing the bottle into the nearby, overflowing trash can, she heard a small knock on the door. Momentarily startled she approached the door with caution. Her instincts told her immediately who it was, however, she remained cautious about why they were there to begin with. Walking with unease, she got up from the bed and flung open the door.

"Remy? What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to help you," he stated breezing past her and into the room before she could get a word in edge wise.

"I don't want your help."

Plopping down on the bed he looked up to her with resolution on his face. "Well you got it wheter you want it or not."

"Does Kayla know you're here?"

"I told her that my brother got wind of a hunt and asked for my help. Which isn't a total lie since he is helping your sister at the moment."

"Again, what are you doing here?"

"Whether you want to admit it, you need my help. You shouldn't have to go thru this alone."

Brie laughed, "Since when are you so sentimental?"

"Since the toughest person I know is willing to lay down her life for something. I figured I could at least lend a hand."

Everything in Brie fought the urge to kick Remy the hell out of there. To tell him to leave her alone. But when it came right down to it, she could use the help.

"Its your funeral," she shrugged slamming the motel door shut and plopping down on the bed beside him.

"What's going on Brie?"

Brie looked to Remy hesitant. Getting up from the bed she walked over to a nearby desk. Picking up a manilla folder and throwing it to Remy, who began flipping thru it. As Remy worked over the pages, he immediately recognized the familiar trappings.

"You're on a hunt?"

"Not just any hunt, look closer."

Remy looked over the contents carefully, astonishment growing across his face.

"You're looking into the death of your parents?"

"You know the story. At least, the one we were told. That a demon came into our house, and killed our parents. Well, that's not true. Something did come into our house, but it wasn't a demon. Its taken me years but I have finally figured out what it was."

"What was it?"

"It goes by many names, but its commonly referred to as an Ondine. Its a type of water spirit. It likes to steal souls."

"What do you know about them?"

"Well, according to what little I could find, they usually reside near water. Either a lake, but they prefer waterfalls. Kris and I grew up in Idaho near a waterfall that lied on the snake river. I checked back a bit. There are patterns of drownings, mostly men, spanning back at least a hundred years. The victims, all male, found dead along with their wives, having both apparently drowned without being around any water source."

"Do you have any idea why you were targeted?"

"According to legends, an Ondine can only steals the soul of a man who bore her a child."

Remy looked to Brie in astonishment, "You mean your mom was one of these things?"

"More like possessed by it. They act like a succubus. They pick a vessel, mate with the husband, and then steal part of their souls. The process is lengthy and can take a lifetime to drain someone dry. However, if the vessel is with child, they can consume more. Which is why its the Ondine's goal to ensure conception. Our mother was pregnant at the time of her death. Its what allowed it to drain my father and then kill my mother."

"Have you told Kristina?"

"She would never believe me, and besides, she would try to stop me if I did."

"What does any of this have to do with what you've been doing lately."

"An Ondine is not just any water spirit. Its part of an ancient race of creatures called Elementals."

"Elementals?"

"They're one of the oldest creatures on record. They consist of and control one of the four elements: earth, water, fire and air. They're rarely seen, and even more rarely killed. However it is possible."

"Is that why you're doing this? To go after the creature that murdered your parents."

"Elementals can only be killed by others of their kind. This thing possessed by mother when I was concieved and it possessed me when it killed she and my father. Its a part of me. I'm connected to it. The Skin-Walker part of me makes me strong, Remy. But not enough. I'm still half-human. If I'm going to destroy it, I have to meet it on its level. The more I feed, the stronger I become. The more prepared I will be to return to Idaho and end the tyranny of this monster once and for all."

"You are trying to turn yourself into a Pure Bred. Brie, they're animals. If you do this, and it doesn't kill you, you will essentially destroy all that makes you human."

"That's the whole point."


	11. Chicago, Illinois

Sam Winchester sat on the bed, combing thru his laptop.

He was supposed to be resting - he doubted he would be able to.

Stephenie had taken him for an MRI and had promised afterwards to stop poking and prodding him, on the condition that he rest. Stephenie had told him that there was little they could do for him until they found Cyrus Leonard. And even then it would be a longshot to convince him to undo the curse. But that these tests would give them a better baseline on what they were looking at.

Bobby, along with Stephenie's father and some of his most trusted researchers, were working tirelessly on a way to track the Skin-Walker. It wasn't easy. These things tended to stay underground. It was one of the reasons why they had remained largely off of the radar of most hunters. However, from the impression he got from Stephenie and her father, they weren't anything like 'most hunters'. And for that part, at least, Sam was eternally grateful. If they had any chance of saving him, he was thankful to have help from people who knew what they were doing.

But it was his life - and as much as the growing ache in his chest told him he needed to rest - he needed to feel like he was doing something. That he wasn't just going to sit idly by and wait for the inevitable heart attack everyone kept telling him he was going to have. He needed to be useful. He needed to do whatever it took to make himself well enough so that he could focus on what was more important.

Finding Dean.

He had waited until everyone had gone to bed, leaving him in the clinic with a skeletal crew, before sneaking over and grabbing his laptop from the backpack Bobby had brought in for him. He had scoured over his notes on the original hunt in Cortez, until he had memorized every word. There had to be something that he missed. Something he had looked over during the inital investigation.

But he couldn't find anything.

After looking for hours, Sam felt physically drained. Normally he would have surrounded himself with liters of Red Bull and pressed on. However, he knew that his body had been working on over drive, and the last thing he wanted to do was exhaust himself to the point of being completely useless. Shutting the laptop off, he set it on top the table beside him.

"Its good to see you're finally taking my advice."

Slightly startled, Sam turned to see Stephenie standing in the doorway.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know that resting is about the last thing you've been doing," she said as she walked into the door and stood by Sam's bedside. Grabbing his wrist to check his pulse, she added softly, "But I don't blame you."

"You don't?" Sam asked genuinely surprised.

"He's your brother. He's family. And he's in trouble. From what Bobby had told me of you and Dean, I would be disappointed if I didn't find you scouring for clues. I would do the same."

"Do you have any siblings?"

Stephenie paled in response, her eyes suddenly saddened.

"I had a brother. He was killed."

Sam asked as he sat up, gently swinging his legs over the bed. "How?"

"It was a Skin-Walker. More than likely the one that we've been tracking. The same one that killed Molly."

Letting go of Sam's wrist, Stephenie took a seat beside him on the bed, her expression although serious, was frought with lingering despair.

"Stephenie, I'm so sorry," Sam said placing a consoling hand on her shoulder. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

"Jon was a good man. He had a wife and three beautiful little girls. He was the most wonderful brother a girl could have ever asked for. When we were kids, he always talked about leaving the reservation and becoming a famous musician. So when he was a kid, he left for California with big dreams. Dreams that never came to fruition. But he had a family. He didn't regret anything. He worked twelve hours a day at a crappy job in the middle of nowhere just to make sure that his family would want for nothing. He showed up to work , just as he did every single day without fail. Only that day, something evil showed up as well. And it tore him apart - along with everyone who happened to be in the diner that night."

Sam kept quiet as Stephenie composed herself.

"I'm not going to let you die, Sam. I couldn't save Jon, but I'm going to save you. I don't care what it takes or what I have to do, there is no way in hell I am going to let die. Do you understand me?"

Sam nodded as Stephenie got up from the bed. "Well, now that - that is out the way, I came here to bring you some news."

Sam gave Stephenie a small smile, "What kind of news?"

"We got the results back from the MRI. I think I have discovered the cause of the original cardiac event that Cyrus' poison is triggering."

"And?"

"It didn't make any sense at first but after talking with Bobby, I was able to put the pieces together. I was right about it being related to the demon blood consumption, just not in the way I originally believed. The MRI showed a damaged area of heart muscle near on the wall near the apex of your heart. It wasn't recent. It was the kind that had been there awhile. The kind usually found after a heart attack."

oooo

_Chicago, Illinois_

Turned over tables, broken glass and patches of blood adorned the living room of the high rise penthouse. In the far corner, near the large, unbrekable windows, lied a man in a pool of his own blood. Quiverring and crying profusely. The man tensed as he turned his head into the direction of the kitchen, where he saw a figure, the one who had destroyed his home and was leaving him to die, sitting comfortably on one of his bar stools, hitting back a scotch.

"I'm not going to tell you what you want Crowley," he said as he coughed up a fist full of blood.

"You really need to acquire a better taste in liquor Ronald," Crowley said as he threw the glass across the room, smashing into a nearby wall. "And, yes, you are going to tell me."

"I'm going to die with the secret Crowley! And there is nothing you can do to stop me."

Striding with ease, Crowley walked over to Ronald, bending down beside him.

"Tell me what I want and I will go away. Leave you to die in peace. Or, I will let you die an agonizing and excruciating death and then drag your ass to hell where I will toture you until you eventually tell me everything I want to know."

Ronald looked into Crowley's eyes. Terror and resignation lining his face.

"And I'll get to go to Heaven?"

"You have my word."

"Blanding," Ronald said swallowing hard. "He's in Blanding, Utah. You will be able to find him when you get there."

"Thank you Ronald."

"Just make it quick," Ronald squinted as Crowley reached into his chest and pulled out his still beating heart.

"Enjoy your afterlife, Ronald, whatever that may be."

Crowley stood up, dropping Ronald's heart on the ground beside him.

"Utah," he sighed as he grabbed his jacket from a nearby sofa and headed for the door. "Why can't it ever be Vegas?"


	12. Blanding, Utah

_Blanding, Utah_

Simon Craft sat at the end of a long rickety table, his head buried in a book. With its covers barely hanging onto its weathered spine, the tome had definately seen better days. The knowledge it held was passed down from generation to generation until it finally fell into his capable hands. It was more than just knowledge, it was a responsibility. It wasn't an ordinary book, by any ordinary means. It was power. Unlike any that mortal man had ever known. Since it was the only one of its kind, it was the responsibilty of him and the ancestors who preceeded him to keep it safe from the dark forces that may try to exploit it.

Finishing his final paragraph, Simon closed the book and walked over to a secret safe he had kept hidden in a nearby wall. He had barely shut the door when there was a frantic knocking on his front door. Simon said nothing. He concealed the safe and grab the shot gun from the mantlepiece. The knock only grew louder. Simon cocked the gun and aimed at the door.

"Whose's there?" he asked in a commanding authoratative tone.

"Simon, its me. Open the door!"

Shotgun firmly in hand, Simon walked over to the window and peeked thru a crack in the curtain. There standing on his porch was his cousin, covered in blood.

"Simon, open up. Its important."

Lowering the shotgun, Simon immediately opened the door, ushering his cousin inside.

"Ronald," he asked quizzically. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Lock the door," Ronald said pointing to the door with a shaky hand.

"What?"

"Just lock the damn door Simon!"

"Okay, I'll lock the damn door," Simon responded irritatingly as he placed the gun down beside the door in order to frantically lock it.

He knew immediately he had made a mistake.

Turning slolwy he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Taking one good look at Ronald, he could see that there was a hole where it heart should have been.

"What are you?" Simon asked "What do you want?"

"You know."

"You will never have it."

Tension grew inside Simon as Ronald stepped closer to him.

"I never said, that I was the one who wanted it," Ronald claimed as he tipped his head in the direction of the safe. There, Crowley stood, with the book between his hands.

"You," Simon whispered in an almost rapt awe.

"Please, call me Crowley," he said as he walked over to Ronald, using his hands to lower the shotgun. "We got what we came for, now we'll be off."

Simon didn't hesitate springing into action. With a swift kick he sent Ronald backwards, impaling him on a basket of nearby firepokers. Raising the shotgun to Crowley, he fired. But the shot did little good.

Annoyed, Crowley looked down at the hole in suit, "Was that really necessary?"

With a swift flick of his hands, both Simon's wrists broke, sending him to his knees and the gun crashing to the ground.

"I didn't come here to kill you, Simon, I just came to take back what is mine."

"It doesn't belong to you."

"True," Crowley said as he bent down beside the prone man. "But since its about _my _family and not yours, I would say that I have a bit more claim to it than you do."

"And what do you plan to do with it?"

"Me? Nothing. He on the other hand," Crowley said as he motioned to Ronald's dead form. "That's a different story."

Simon watched in horror as a thick cloud of black smoke rose up out of Ronald's mouth, standing in the air momentarily, before making a beeline straight for him. He could do nothing as the black smoke consumed him, his own consciousness disappearing inside of himself.

"Now what?" Crowley asked as Simon blinked, revealing cold jet black eyes.

"Now we wait," he said as he picked himself up and took a seat on the sofa.

"Wait for what?"

Simon looked up at Crowley and devilishly smiled, "For Sam Winchester, of course."

_oooo_

"A heart attack?"

"I want to run a few additional test to be one hundred percent, but the MRI showed damage consistant with that of a minor heart attack."

"I don't remember ever having a heart attack."

"We think it happened when you killed Lilith."

"_We_?"

"I talked with Bobby. He said that using the 'powers' that you achieved from the demon blood causes your heart rate to increase rapidly. Especially when you were going up against Lilith."

"My heart was beating at 200bpm, from what I've been told."

"If that's the case then having a sustained heart rate of 200 or higher can be potentially life threatening. Your heart would have been working at an enormous capacity, beating at life-threatening speeds, most likely irregular and under a mounting strain. When it was all said and done it crumbled under the load, caused you to have a coronary."

"I felt perfectly fine after killing her."

"True, but according to Bobby, you also had some divine intervention in cleaning your system out of its desire for demon blood after you let Lucifer out of the pit. Whose to say that it also didn't save your life?"

"How come the other doctors didn't catch this?"

"My guess is that they assumed it was nothing more than a byproduct of the accident. It was so minor unless you knew what you were looking for, it could have been easily missed."

"So, where do we go from here?"

"Again, our main focus is to find Cyrus and stop the curse. However, now that I know the injury that the curse is exploiting, it opens us up to resources."

"Like what?"

"Normally I would start a cardiac rehabilitation therapy but honestly I think we are running out of time. There is another option. Its incredibly risky. I didn't want Father or Bobby hearing me even mention this, they would never allow it, which is why I never brought it up until now. However, according to the shamans, there is a spell that would reverse the curse."

"The spell would heal me?"

"Permanently, no. Think of it like this: Its like putting a bandage on somethng that needs stitches. It won't fix the problem but it will mend it long enough for us to find a more permanent solution."

"Let's do it."

"The spell is only lasts seventy two hours and should be considered as an absolutely last possible option. As I mentioned earlier, the corpse poison either kills you instantly or exacberates an already existing condition to create a long and painful death. In your case, a small heart attack. The curse draws its ability to harm you from that existing injury. What the shamans can do is temporarily reverse the original damage caused by the heart attack. Without any trigger to draw from, the curse would lay dormant and you would physically return to, albeit temporarily, perfect health."

Stephenie put her hands up in protest, "I need to tell you there are risks involved with this."

"What kind of risks?"

"The spell literally reverses the injury and then reinstates it. Which means that you would be having not one but two heart attacks in a short period of time. Given your fragile health, there is no saying if you would survive it."

"I have to do this if it means that I am able to find my brother."

"I know," Stephenie smiled. "I just wanted you to know the risks before going in."

"When do we do this?"

"Like I said before, Father and Bobby would never approve and none of the shamans would dare go against him to help us. However, I have a friend who lives in Blanding, he was a shaman here once, but had a bit of a falling out with Father. I've talked to him, and he is willing to do it. The shamans will no doubt tell Father what I have been asking, he will try and stop us. However, he'll still be asleep for another three hours. If you can be ready in fifteen, we can be to Blanding and back before he ever gets up."

"That's fine with me."

"Good. I'll be back for you."

Sam watched as Stephenie turned and left the room. If Dean had been there, he would have questioned why he would be so willing to follow a stranger so badly. Then again, he always had. It wasn't out of blind faith or ignorance but hope. He would be an idiot to go into a situation like this and not have doubts about it. But they were out of options and when it came right down to it, some of the best plans occured when you were backed into a corner.

He only hoped, this was the case.


End file.
